The air in the underground arena was thick with the smell of iron and dust. Benji lay on the cold concrete, every breath a jagged struggle. Above him, Ryo's silhouette blocked out the harsh overhead lights from the bulb, his face twist with a bitterness that had finally boiled over.
"You should've stayed in the shadows," Ryo hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of adrenaline and hatred.
The crowd was a ocean of noise—a group of faces screaming for more. Benji tried to move, but his limbs felt like lead. His thoughts drifted back to his home, to the quiet safety he had once known. That memory was the only thing keeping him from slipping into the dark.
Ryo reached down, grabbing Benji's collar to force him to look up.
"This is where it ends for you!"
"Stop it" someone ordered.
The word wasn't loud, but it possessed a weight that silenced the entire cavernous space. The roar of the crowd died instantly, replaced by a suffocating stillness. Ryo's hand froze. His bravado evaporated, replaced by a visible, bone-deep tremor.
"Shilling..." someone whispered. The name seemed to carry a chill that lowered the temperature of the room.
"The Architect of Silence" the title given to him(Shilling).
The crowd parted slowly, making a wide path for a boy (Shilling) who looked no older than thirteen. Shilling walked with a calm that was far more terrifying than Ryo's rage. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression as unreadable as still water.
Behind him, Tatsu and Oberto followed like silent shadows. They carried a heavy burden between them, draped in dark fabric.
Shilling stopped just a few feet from Benji. He looked down with a soft, haunting curiosity. "How are you feeling, Benji?" he asked. His voice was gentle, almost kind, which only made the atmosphere more unsettling.
Benji couldn't find his voice. The world seemed to shrink until there was only him and the boy
standing over him.
"You tried to leave," Shilling said with a slight tilt of his head. "But there are no exits here. I brought something to remind you of the world you left behind."
With a light snap of his fingers, Tatsu and Oberto stepped forward. They lowered the burden to the floor. The sound of it hitting the concrete echoed like a gavel.
Benji's heart stopped. There, motionless under the flickering lights, were his mother and father. The reality of it hit him with more force than any physical blow ever could.
"MOM! DAD!"
The scream tore from his throat, raw and broken. He scrambled toward them, dragging his exhausted body across the floor. He reached out to touch his mother's sleeve, but the stillness he encountered was absolute. The world he knew didn't just break; it vanished. And his life has over.
In the stands, some watched with cold indifference, while others looked away from the sheer weight of the tragedy. Shilling remained knelt nearby, watching Benji's grief as if it were a scientific observation.
"You shouldn't have run," Shilling whispered.
Benji didn't hear him. He was lost in the void left by his parents. The pain in his body was gone, replaced by a hollow, freezing emptiness like standing alone in the dark with no one to help.
Ryo, seeking to regain some sense of power, stepped forward and delivered one final, cruel kick to Benji's side. Benji didn't even flinch. He was already somewhere else.
Then, the atmosphere shifted again. A sudden, violent impact sent Ryo flying backward into the arena walls. And suddenly a familiar figure appears.
Elliot stood there, his presence radiating a cold, focused power. He didn't look at the crowd or the fallen Ryo. His eyes were locked on Shilling.
"Dark Bulls," Elliot said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
From the tunnels, nine figures emerged in synchronized silence. They wore the black and red uniform of the Dark Bulls.
The arena erupted into chaos. The Dark Bulls clashed with the arena's guards in a blur of movement. The crowd scrambled for the exits as the struggle turned into an all-out war. Shilling remained seated on a chair brought by his subordinates, watching the destruction with a bored, detached gaze.
Elliot reached Benji's side and gripped his shoulder firmly. "We have to go. Now."
Benji was a shell, allowing himself to be lifted. As they retreated into the shadows of the tunnels, he took one last look at the center of the arena. The lights blurred into streaks of white, and the sounds of the battle faded into a dull hum before everything went black.
When Benji finally woke, he was staring at a familiar, cracked ceiling. Elliot's apartment.
"We made it out," Elliot said from across the room. He was sitting in the shadows, his face set in a grim expression. "But we couldn't bring them with us, Benji. The arena... it's a place of monsters."
Benji pulled the blanket tight, his body shaking. The loss was a physical weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Elliot stood up and walked to the edge of the bed. "The world is going to keep trying to break you. If you want to survive, if you want to make sure this never happens again, you have to change."
He looked directly into Benji's eyes. "I can't protect you forever. You have to learn how to stand on your own."
Tears fell silently, but behind them, a new light was flickering in Benji's gaze. It wasn't the light of hope, but the hard, cold spark of resolve.
"That's right," Benji whispered.
The path ahead was dark, like climbing a mountain but for the first time, he was ready to walk it he knows and with the goal to become strong.